


The Call

by daalny



Category: Book Group
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 14:19:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2431937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daalny/pseuds/daalny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My A/U take on Season 1 Episode 6.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Call

**Author's Note:**

> No infringement on any level is intended.

I have two very attractive lassies in my bedroom dancing and doing things that would surely get any man’s blood up. However, I don’t want to be here. These women are my friends, we spend time together. Book group, and the leisure club. I’m sure if Rab were here he would call me mad not join in. 

The phone rings and I’m bloody grateful. I snatch up the handset, _“Kenny?”_

“Clare” My god I’m relieved it’s her, I can hear her breathing hitch, “everything ok?”

_“Sorry to wake you."_

I can hear that something is wrong and there has to be a reason as to why she is ringing me up this late, “No problem, listen can we have the book group at your place? I just realized I don’t have any chairs.”

_"Sure Kenny, I have to tell you something."_

“Is everything ok Clare?” I ask again, I can feel the stares of Fist and Dirka boring into my skull and steadfastly ignore them.

I can hear her take a breath, _“Barney’s dead.”_

“Do you want me to come over?”

I don’t hear her answer I just hear a whispered, _"he’s dead."_

I can hear the sadness in her voice , I’ve seen her and heard her sad in the taxi but this is different. She’s not speaking anymore and I tell her I'm coming, she takes a breath and I repeat that I’m coming. I end the call and flick my wrist to check the time. I then dial the number that has become ingrained, my taxi driver.

I leave Dirka and Fist, tell them to let themselves out when they’re finished with whatever it is that they wanted at the moment they're too pissed to ask about the phone call too busy arguing with one another. I wait out in the night air and my taxi appears. I remember the last time I made this trip, after another phone call involving Barney, when he had collapsed on her floor.

I scrub my hand over my face and soon we are at Clare’s flat. With Phil’s help I navigate the stairs. 

While Barney wasn’t exactly everyone’s favourite person his death is still a shock. I think she will take it the hardest. She tried so hard to save Barney even though some people can’t be saved.

I knock softly on her door and it opens, she is dressed in white silk nightgown and it’s short. Well perhaps it’s not the gown, the lass has long legs. I remember eyeing them the first time I saw her wearing a white jumper and jeans encasing those long lean legs. I wheel myself in and go to the kitchen. I have no clue as to how American’s handle grief, in Britain it’s usually done with a cup of tea and some sandwiches.

Her kitchen is clean and I’m thankful that while being in the chair my height allows me to view the counter top. There is a cup tree and I quickly retrieve two cups I then go on the hunt for the kettle. I find it and fill with water, out the corner of my eye I can see her. She is leaning up against the door frame. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, I’ve only seen it down once when it was wet from her swim. She is so gorgeous and she’s clueless about it. My memory sparks to Dirka stripping off her cardigan to reveal her black bra. Yes, she attractive but Clare more so. 

The sound of rapid bubbling grabs my attention and maneuver to the other side of the kitchen to the kettle. She is still standing there, just quietly watching me make tea. Truth be told I rather like it. Being in the chair everyone is either trying to help me or as of late trying to fuck me. 

After my injury I had counseling along with physical therapy. My encounters with Fist had me pulling out the old leaflets I had been given. Apparently the chair can be a kind of turn on for people. I never would have believed it. Nonetheless, that drunken mess almost an hour ago has me convinced. 

The tea has steeped, “Clare” I call her over softly and she takes both cups and we move into her sitting room. She waits until I park my chair before she hands me my cup, “ta.”

She moves to the brown settee and curls her legs underneath her. I’m thankful for the cup of tea for it occupies my hands. She has no such qualms and places it down, “Overdose” she murmurs.

“He probably didn’t mean to kill himself.” I say before taking a sip of tea.

Her hands come up but then she quickly puts them in her lap, she gestures with her head towards the black bookcase along the wall. “I did some reading about addiction, of people hurting and they use something to numb themselves. I mean come on, I’m American everybody is in rehab!”

I chuckle at her statement and she flashes me a smile. I find a spot for my own cup and set it aside and propel myself toward her. “Are you alright?”

“I just don’t know what to feel. I’m not pleased that he’s dead but I’m not terribly sad either...I just can’t believe it.”

Shock, my mind supplies. I reach down and pick up her cup. “Drink it.”  
I put a healthy measure of sugar in the tea since it’s good for shock. Her face contorts as she drinks it, “Kenny gross! This super sweet!”

“I thought you Americans put packets of sugar in your tea?” I fire back.

She laughs and my heart skips at the sound, I don’t think I’ve really ever heard her laugh.

I’m sitting rather near her but she doesn’t seem to mind. She laughs before sighing, “I’m sorry for dragging you out, it’s late.”

I roll my eyes, “Actually your phone call couldn’t have come at a better time!”

Her eyes beg me to tell her and so I start telling her of how Fist and Dirka have damn near turned into stalkers finally culminating with the drink at the pub and them fighting over who was going to fuck me.

She laughs again and I laugh too, I’m finally away from the situation to find it funny. We talk into the night and soon the first light of dawn comes streaming in through her window. 

“Thanks” she tells me softly. I can see in her eyes that she’s feeling better. I lean forward in my chair and she moves forward as well. This kiss is different than in the taxi, for she is participating. I can taste the sweetness of the tea as my tongue touches hers. I don’t know how long we kiss for until I feel her hands on my chest pushing me back. 

Her face is flushed and her lips are swollen from kisses--my kisses. She stands and holds out her hand to me. I take it and give it a squeeze before releasing it. She nods and moves out of the sitting room and I follow behind her. While it would have been the picture of romance for us to go hand in hand to her bedroom the chair precludes it. I love that I didn’t have to say anything that she just knew.

Her bed is rumpled, no doubt from where she tried to seek sleep earlier. I maneuver beside it before applying the brake on the wheel so my chair doesn’t slide around. Using my arms I am able to pull myself onto her bed, I place my back against the headboard before I motion for her and she quickly joins me. I’m in new territory, I’m not a virgin but it will be the first time that I’ve had relations in a bed other than my own since I was injured. I’m glad that her bed has a headboard or this might fail before we even start. A flash of white catches my attention as her nightgown is removed.

“Jesus” is my curse more like my affirmation.

She blushes and ducks her head, her hair covers her face. I shuck off my own work shirt and pull her against me. Her body is warm and I exhale sharply, God it has been a long time. Her hands are on my shoulders before trailing down my chest. She traces the waistband of my trousers.  
I move my own hands to my trousers and between the two of us we pull them off. I’m hard and I think she’s surprised by it.

“The injury to my spinal cord was incomplete, so I can still--”

She cuts me off with a kiss, her arms wind around my neck and I pull her into my lap. I fist some of her hair and give it tug to get her attention. I want this to be real, I want this to be for us not some strange concoction of fantasy. 

“Yes” she whispers and I kiss her. 

I can feel her knees against my waist but the rest of her legs I don’t register against me. It doesn’t matter though for she raises up and then sinks down and I definitely feel that. The sun is rising and if I had half a mind I would write this type of scene in my book. However, at the moment all I can do is bask in the heat of this gorgeous woman and surrender to where she wants me to go. Warm and smooth is only way I can describe Clare at this moment. I'm fixated on her legs, I've only seen them when she was in that bathing suit. The trousers she wears don't do her legs justice. I use my arms to raise her upper body before letting gravity take over. She moans in the most wanton way and I repeat the move. It doesn't take long for me to cry out with her. 

It is only after when she is nestled against my chest that I think of Fist and Dirka and what the hell they have done in my home.


End file.
